


Outlaws of Love

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Will, Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, Sassy Will, There's some there, We can all be happy, Will Loves Hannibal, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Set right during and after The Fall.[Will keeps his breaths shallow and his words soft to prevent more salt or rain water from going into his mouth. “Hannibal, if you would at least kick, insufferable heathen.”]





	Outlaws of Love

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was kinda inspired with Adam Lambert's Outlaws of Love. It's actually like really fitting Hannigram's case tbh. Check it out?
> 
> Enjoy.

With Hannibal cradled preciously in his arms, Will smiles with slight melancholy as he flips them mid-air during the fall. A thrust of weight a top of him quickens his drop below, an invisible force pushes him upwards but he continues to sink without avail.

Will makes sure to not struggle anyway and simply appreciate the stillness breathing in his arms; both soaked with black crimson, the ex-profiler really meant it when he said, “It’s beautiful.” There were no lies, not anymore; no games, absolutely none especially during the finality of it. The face Hannibal made then was priceless, and he’d happily release the wrath of a thousand monsters locked away in the very depth of his mind if only to witness that small, but elated smile grace Hannibal’s lips again.

An invitation into the endless mouth of salty water gave Will a memorable break of something to go by. His back hit the surface of the water first, producing a startling crack as loud as a hundred teacups breaking. Will was sure of Hannibal’s ability to swim, yet he doesn’t. It confuses Will for one cold second why he doesn’t.

Grunting, he does his level best to keep both their heads above water. It was a trying task when Hannibal was being familiarly rude for a lack of trying to at least keep his weight afloat too. Nevertheless, Will decided he could live with it despite the sharp stabs here and there; and his face which hurt like the number of fucks he gave Hannibal- which was a lot.

Pulls of waves kept crashing into their injured bodies. He couldn’t spot land save the cliff which they fell off. Mustering what adrenaline had last left for him, he swam with the doctor held close to him by the armpits. Will felt bloody cold and tired- but satisfied- but also freaggin’ done with the swimming for he could feel the blood chilling at his feet; numbing.

Smiling wryly to himself, it certainly didn’t help at all when heavy dark clouds decided just now to descend upon them in all their terrible-timed glory to give them both the shower of their not-so-fading lives. Will keeps his breaths shallow and his words soft to prevent more salt or rain water from going in his mouth. “Hannibal, if you would at least _kick_ , insufferable heathen.”

Hannibal does, but gives a face with dazed eyes. From what, Will doesn’t bother to break down, empathy can go about later- he was a busy man.

After going on for what he felt to be like hours, they wash themselves ashore with ungentle scrapes against the sand. Groaning, Will crawls on threes as he drags up the Lithuanian cannibal with a remaining arm. Breathing heavily, the ex-profiler feels himself slump down, back lying on the sand.

Everything hurts. Will shifts and sighs heavily. Hannibal has his hands on his chest, one atop another. The doctor even looked somewhat comfortable. Like some vampire in a well-made coffin.  
“You a’right?” He asks.

Hannibal hums at that. Will rolls his ocean-blue eyes.

“M’kay, gotta get up now. We must go, Hannibal. Jack’ll catch us soon if we don’t.”

They both go on a run after a moment of strange silence. Hannibal’s maroon eyes were looked left at him, Will squinted as Hannibal smiled dorkily.

The journey was smooth, if somewhat painful along the way. Quietly, both killers take a care mysteriously left with little than a note of ‘Nakama’ done in an elegant scrawl. Will could take a guess of who left it and thanked Chiyoh internally, forgiving their previous grievances of moving trains and guns.

They find shelter at a safehouse Hannibal enters an address in. The car comes with a pre-installed GPS: convenient. Barely making it into the well-furnished living room without collapsing, Hannibal grabs him by the wrist to head into an equally well-done bathroom with proper soap, first-aid and all that lovely nonsense.

They stitch each other up in a comfortable silence before taking a shower. Major wounds done, the more minor ones could wait after they cleaned up thoroughly and didn’t smell like fish piss and iron. Will might’ve cracked a rib, or two, or some.

The good doctor, Will found, was in no better condition than him. Will had laughed when Hannibal frowned at his own self-examination; and laughed just a bit harder when Hannibal gave him a deadpanned look that screamed ‘I’ll eat you.’

Will had choked out a humorous “Not for a lack of trying, Doctor Lecter.”

They slept in different rooms that night and Will felt disappointed with the lack of nightmares that schedules themselves in secret meetings to haunt him every other night. Tucking in, it almost felt unreal as to how all of what happened truly did. The ex-profiler was unsettled at the thought of it all, _this is the right decision, isn’t it? He could be both selfish and happy for once, right?_

Dropping into unconsciousness, Will awoke later than Hannibal the very next day. Understandable, considering the good doctor made it his responsibility to check on their wounds every god-knows how many hours. Disgustingly often, for sure.

Scanning through the availability of the kitchen, Will decided to make them both coffee and a simple breakfast. Hannibal could rest, keep his talented hands away from the food once in a blue moon. Not long after Will finished the eggs and sausages, Hannibal comes down the stairs in a stylish sweater and silk pajama pants- as casual as Hannibal Lecter would ever let.

Will’s chosen equal lifts a light brow at the full plates at the dining table. The ex-profiler, keeper of 7 dogs, angles his head, dark curls flopping at his forehead and gives the best imitation of puppy eyes he could. Hannibal’s face softens visibly, “Thank you.” He says. “You’re welcome.” Will smiles.

The silverware clinks as they finish their breakfast. “You cook well, Will.” Hannibal praises. Will nods awkwardly, unused to praise. Putting the dishes away, Hannibal washes them and stacks the ceramic away with an almost obsessive compulsion. Will leaned against the counter, arms crossed relaxed over his chest, “You up for… a proper conversation after you finish, yea?”

Hannibal hums. Will takes it as a yes as two trains of thought bullet through their trains in his calculative mind. The ex-profiler and all-star empath doesn’t miss the way Hannibal twitches ever so slightly when Will flickers his eyes to a sharpened kitchen knife on the counter he stood. Betrayal seemed to stick on Hannibal quite thickly.

“We could socialize, like adults. God has failed to forbid we become friendly.”

Hannibal smirks at that. And the doctor stitches up his person suit good.

They move to the living room, both get comfy as they sit opposite each other similarly during their unofficial therapies. “Will you run away with me, Hannibal?” Will starts.  
Unreadable, Hannibal closes his eyes as though to prevent Will from seeing “I gave you a gift, Will-“

“And I didn’t take it?” Will snips.

“ _Rude_.”

“The things you do to the rude, Doctor.” He almost purrs. Will could even feel the light of amusement and faint anxiety dancing at his eyes. Running his fingers through his luxurious curls, Will sighs. “I-I know, Hannibal. And I don’t see why you bother sometimes when you already know. Knew how I most likely would’ve acted given my circumstances and mental state.”

Hannibal crosses his fingers and darts his maroon eyes away. It wasn’t a show of guilt, Hannibal wouldn’t understand guilt when he justifies his actions as a more twisted and self-centred version ‘for the better good’. The doctor was intentionally showcasing vulnerability in an attempt for something he wanted from Will.

The killer by many proxies knew and indulged him anyway. “Where do you wanna go? Not France, I hope. We’re over this, Lecter, I’ve long forgiven you. And if this thing- this game going on between the two of us is only played by one, it won’t work out.”

The unsaid 'question' being not-very-subtly ignored, delight technically bleeds out of Hannibal as he smiles, “Come, dear Will. We have places to be, pigs to slaughter, and promises to keep.”

Will’s hands tremble for reasons not known to him, but maybe by Hannibal as a sparkle of knowing glimmers past his maroon eyes that looked a faint tint of blood in the sunlight. The ex-profiler scuttles up the stairs, not forgetting a showy groan. “Hannibal!” He calls shortly after, “You got me only **ONE** pair of jeans?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos, comment maybe (jk, pls do). If you guys or girls like it, a second part maybe?


End file.
